Page 6 of Heart of Iron
“Please, please don’t kill me!”
Careful, a little voice warned.Don’t lose control.
Will growled, the sound echoing inhumanly through his throat.They already thought him a beast.Why the hell shouldn’t he rip them apart?They’d put a knife in Blade.Nobody touched his adopted family and lived to tell of it.
Shouts echoed through the tunnels.Will’s head shot up and he clenched his fist.Nighthawks.On the trail already, damn it.
He leaned closer and sniffed the air beside the man’s ear.“Got your scent now,” he whispered.“You ever come near Whitechapel again and I’ll come for you.I’ll rip you apart, one piece at a time…and feed it to you.You don’t want that, do you?”
The stench of urine filled the air and the man sobbed his agreement.Will dropped him with a splash then turned on his heel.
The Nighthawks would smell him, but they wouldn’t catch him.This was Will’s turf here, and they wouldn’t dare cross the wall circling Whitechapel to hunt him.Time to get the hell out of here.He gave Freddie and his fat friend one last hungry look, then turned and fled into the darkness.
They’d remember his threat.That was all that mattered.
***
Will tossed the shirt away with a wet slap and then started on the buttons of his breeches.Both stunk from the tunnels, but he felt a damned sight better.The tension between his shoulders eased with every blow he’d dealt.
He’d wanted blood.Wanted to kill.But sometimes it was best to leave them alive.Witnesses.Men who’d spread the stories in hushed tones in local alehouses, warning others not to risk the wrath of Whitechapel’s Beast.It was all part of the legend he was carefully cultivating.A lesson he’d learned from Blade.
Fear was often the best defense.
The air was chilly as he kicked off the rest of his clothes and strode for the washbasin.He usually didn’t notice the cold, but he’d been wet for hours and his stomach was empty.Scrubbing the stink off himself, he draped a blanket around his hips and then turned toward the kitchen.There was bread and cheese left over, and a jug of clean water.
Resting his backside against the table, he bit into his meal and stared at his shirt.There was something sticking out of it.A piece of paper.The note the fat man had carried.
He padded across the room and knelt, chewing slowly.The paper was thick with wax.Whoever had written it had wanted it to stay dry, which meant he thought the recipient of it would get wet at some stage.Will frowned.Just where had those two been heading—in the sewers?The water this time of year was barely knee high.
There were whispers that it was deeper down below, though.In some parts of Undertown.
Fishing it open, he tilted it toward the single lamp.Lines of symbols crisscrossed the parchment—letters, numbers, and odd slashing marks.An incomprehensible mess.
What the hell had he stumbled upon?Will took another bite of his bread and cheese and stood, crossing closer to the lamp.The better light made no sense of the symbols, not that he’d expected them to.
Will flipped the paper over, but there was nothing on the back.No scent but the odd waxy substance.He frowned.Burning down the draining factories, coded letters, strange devices that had obviously been made to incapacitate blue bloods… Somebody was looking to start a war.
Two
“How spectacularly…gaudy.”
Lena glanced away from the curtained platform, her attention drawn by the dripping malice in her friend’s tone.“Whatever do you mean, Adele?”
Adele Hamilton—a former diamond of society—leaned closer and turned her lip up.“They’ve got puppets.I’m surprised Miss Bishop hasn’t invited an entire menagerie to perform for us this evening.Or a circus troupe.”
“You’re just jealous because she signed a thrall contract with Lord Macy and you thought he was going to offer for you.”Lena turned her head to the balcony where Miss Bishop was sipping champagne and glowing with happiness.Having signed a thrall contract with Lord Macy, Miss Bishop was now set for life.It was the highest ambition of any debutante.To be protected.Showered in diamonds and fancy golden steam carriages.Dripping in pearls.
All it cost was a little something in return.
Blood.
Lena shivered and looked down into her half-empty glass.
“As if I’d accept someone like Macy.”Adele sniffed and drained her glass.Yet her pretty almond-shaped eyes watched the pair on the balcony like a hawk.
Macy rested his hand on Miss Bishop’s gloved one and slowly stroked her fingers.Even from the gardens below, Lena could see her breathing quicken and Macy’s eyes darken with desire.He seemed so much older than Miss Bishop in that moment.So much more powerful.It made Lena feel sick to her stomach.
Stopit, she told herself sharply.Don’t think about it.It was Miss Bishop’s choice.She wasn’t being forced into this.
